Thoughtlets: Revelation's Fifth Seal

You hear them. You hear the dead calling out for vengeance. You don't see them, as such, but there are reflections in windows of people that aren't there. There are reflections in lakes and rivers where they were drowned. There are songs in the wind. There are shapes in the meadows where their broken bodies lie forgotten, for a split second trees growing over their corpses mould their bark into screaming mouths. Pavements built over the sites of their martyrdom ripple like water. The bells in churches resonate, not ring, with the cries from their spirits.

No one knows what they saw and what they heard. But everyone saw and heard it.

UWA Outbreak #4, Kalinda RP 1/1: I've Had it with These Motherfucking Snakes with Motherfucking Delusions of Grandeur

Technology is weird where I come from.

Despite having been one of those Medieval Stasis type worlds where magic just does so much (and civilizations keep wrecking one another's shit) for most of its existance, upon being sucked into the Void and stuck to Tatheon like a continent-sized Band Aid the Empire of Blood has managed to acquire a great deal of technology.

It took awhile to figure out how to work most of it, and just as long to determine that the resident god of nature hates mass production, and the light of her particular sun rapidly speeds the breakdown of anything that wasn't hand made.

But anything portable tends to come with its own carrying case, protecting it from the degenerating light of our luddite sun. If you have a steady supply of machines you don't mind having taken apart, broken, and exploded (not always in that order) you can toss them into a room full of dwarves and gnomes and end up having the principles that the things work on pretty well understood.

And the thing with dwarves is that they live underground, well away from nasty technology-hating solar goddesses, so if you can bring something out of the Urban Wasteland and get it to a Dwarfhold, you've got a pretty good chance of keeping you perfectly functional piece of technology.

Provided the gnomes don't get hold of it.

VK's Unnecessary Plotline; a Deluge of References and Apocalyptic and Fantasy Tropes Novel, Chapter 2

Delilah Darkbolt.

Fuck.

While she was the closest thing I had to a friend amongst the dark elf nobility, I'd kind of been avoiding her for the past few days. Not for the usual reasons either. I mean the usual reasons why everybody else avoided her.

Delilah na Kinai, Scion of House Darkbolt, Firstborn True Daughter of Dara na Kinai, Heir to the Matriarchy.

Dark elves are born with innate magic, tied to the totem animals of their race, house, and family. It always manifests in the same three ways: sorcery; the application of raw magical power as destructive energy, enchantment; the application of magical power for strengthening one's self or allies and weakening one's foes, and channeling; the act of imbuing one's self with the raw essence of one's patron, gaining their traits and physical aspects.

Delilah was a pure Enchanter, and to compliment their powers of being able to enhance others most enchanters went out and found a fearsome beastie and bound it to them as a loyal protector.

Delilah had tried that. Dozens of times.

VK's Unnecessary Plotline; a Deluge of References and Apocalyptic and Fantasy Tropes Novel, Chapter 1

"New log in found, user Kalinda Kriegsdottir, Maintenance Necrotechnician Lead Subterranean. Accessing profile..." chirped the computer with its obnoxious, Stepford Wife-esque secretary voice.

Three, two, one...

"Error. Your data file appears to be corrupted."

I sighed, "No, it's not. It's fine."

"Kriegsdottir is an awarded title of nobility to a dwarven child whose parents were slain in battle. A cursory inspection of you with my optical sensors indicates..."

"I'm an elf/kobold crossbreed and am also a dragonblood. My grandma's dwarven and she found my egg not far from a battlefield."

"According to protocol all elves are to be subjected to bloodline testing to determine proper House and Clan affiliations."

"No, it's fine. Really. Let's just ignore my file."

Writing Prompt: The story of someone dying and realizing their religion was not true.

Reverend Bob Roberts strode up happily to the Pearly Gates, marveling at the great golden city built on hills of billowing clouds beyond it.

He walked up to them proudly, and then fell promptly on his derriere rather ashamedly when he smacked face first into them and found they didn't open.

There was a flash of light and Bob found a large, towering figure standing over him, whose inner radiance was so bright that the details of his appearance could not be made out.

WELCOME TO HEAVEN, MY SON! boomed the voice of Almighty God.

UWA Outbreak #3, Kalinda RP 1/1: A Not-So-Brief Kayfabe History of the Universe

Delilah Darkbolt.

Fuck.

While she was the closest thing I had to a friend amongst the dark elf nobility, I'd kind of been avoiding her for the past few days. Not for the usual reasons either. I mean the usual reasons why everybody else avoided her.

Delilah na Kinai, Scion of House Darkbolt, Firstborn True Daughter of Dara na Kinai, Heir to the Matriarchy.

Dark elves are born with innate magic, tied to the totem animals of their race, house, and family. It always manifests in the same three ways: sorcery; the application of raw magical power as destructive energy, enchantment; the application of magical power for strengthening one's self or allies and weakening one's foes, and channeling; the act of imbuing one's self with the raw essence of one's patron, gaining their traits and physical aspects.

Delilah was a pure Enchanter, and to compliment their powers of being able to enhance others most enchanters went out and found a fearsome beastie and bound it to them as a loyal protector.

Delilah had tried that. Dozens of times.